


i've no language left to say it

by GreyishBlue



Category: Marvel (Comics), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Clint Barton Needs a Hug, Declarations Of Love, Depression, M/M, Nightmares, Self-Esteem Issues
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-28
Updated: 2019-10-28
Packaged: 2021-01-05 11:09:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,154
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21207557
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GreyishBlue/pseuds/GreyishBlue
Summary: Even as Clint is clawing his way out of sleep, the sensation of something lacking pulls at him. He reaches over to where Bucky’s usually curled up, and the chill of the blanket under his trembling fingertips intensifies the fear left over from the nightmare still trying to crawl around in his head. Dreading to look, knowing he has to, Clint slowly opens his eyes to scan through his room.





	i've no language left to say it

**Author's Note:**

> Winterhawk Bingo Square: No more coffee
> 
> Title from Hozier, as usual.

Even as Clint is clawing his way out of sleep, the sensation of something lacking pulls at him. He reaches over to where Bucky’s usually curled up, and the chill of the blanket under his trembling fingertips intensifies the fear left over from the nightmare still trying to crawl around in his head. Dreading to look, knowing he has to, Clint slowly opens his eyes to scan through his room. 

Bucky isn’t anywhere in the room. The clothes that he had scattered across it last night in a rush of wandering hands and biting kisses are gone too. Clint pushes himself up on the bed, looks more carefully in the corners like there might be a hidden pair of Bucky’s boots there, knowing full well he’s kidding himself. With every moment his heartbeat feels louder, the lack of other sound amplified until he has to scramble to grab his hearing aids and fit them in, hands and breath shaking unsteadily. 

Clint isn’t gonna kid himself, he’s always known that the thing between him and Bucky has an expiration date. Just… lately everything had seemed so easy and comfortable, he’d started to think maybe there wouldn’t be another disaster, dared to hope for an end to the long line of fuck ups that were his relationships. Some part of him was at least expecting Bucky would have said something to end it, but this isn’t the first time someone’s just taken off in the night to avoid having to explain why they don’t want him any more. 

Long quiet minutes drag by while Clint tries to get his hammering heart under control. It doesn’t really work, but he struggles his way from underneath the sheet and out of the bed anyway. He’s desperately keeping his mind on just getting up, making some coffee. It’s the only thing he can think of that might bring some warmth back into him. He’s filled the cracks in his heart with caffeine before, and he lies desperately to himself that it’ll work this time too. But he feels like his chest is hollow all the way through, like Bucky just took everything he had. So. Coffee. As much as he can possibly make.

Clint makes it to the kitchen with his eyes cast down so he can avoid looking at the little bits of his apartment that Bucky’s brought in, been a part of. It’s easy enough, half the time he’s dragging himself around the apartment half asleep he barely looks up anyway. He rummages around in the cabinet for the tin of coffee, has to count to ten in his head when it’s not there. He searches through anywhere else in the kitchen he might have left it with a desperate focus, breath catching a little harder whenever he comes up empty. 

He checks the trash can last, and the sight of the tin resting atop it breaks the fragile control he’s kept together. He slumps down onto the floor, doesn’t give a damn that the cabinet knobs scrape across his back. He just manages to bury his face in his hands before the tears start. Then he’s sobbing, his mind playing back every kiss between them lately, like his brain needs more ammunition to hurt him. Clint knows he looks pathetic curled up in just his ratty old pajama pants, crying on the kitchen floor like it’s his first heartbreak, but he can’t help it. 

Just last night, when Bucky was curled around him after he cleaned them both up so carefully, the warmth curled in his chest felt like love. He’d been terrified of the sensation, nearly ready to jump out of his own skin until Bucky’s hands were roaming his skin in soothing circles. Thinking about how gentle Bucky’s hands were on him brings on another fresh wave of tears.

Eventually the hollow feeling in his chest gets big enough that he can’t find anything else in himself to cry out, and he starts to try to pull himself up from the floor. Just as he makes it back to his feet, body leaden and shaking, he hears the click of the front door. Clint whips around, eyes red and wide at the sight of Bucky standing there looking wind-blown and frantic. 

Bucky’s only stunned in the doorway for a moment, a plastic shopping bag dangling from one wrist, before he’s hurrying to Clint. “Baby, are you okay? What’s wrong? Are you hurt?” Bucky takes Clint’s face gently between his hands, skirts his fingers across the familiar features looking for some bruise or cut that might explain his broken-down appearance.

Clint doesn’t have the voice to reply, just takes in one great heaving breath and falls into Bucky’s arms, tucks himself around the shorter man as securely as he can. Bucky wraps around him immediately, wincing when the shopping back smacks Clint in the shoulder a little, but otherwise just holding onto the blonde tightly. When Clint finally manages to speak, it’s barely even a whisper, “I thought you left.” 

“What? Clint, no, baby. I’d never leave you.” He pulls Clint back to look into his red-rimmed eyes, presses a gentle kiss to his chin. 

Clint, persistent and still scared, insists, “But you never get up first.” 

“Clint, look at me.” Bucky tips Clint’s head down so he’s forced to make eye contact again, “I love you, I’m not leaving you. We were out of coffee and I wanted you to have it when you got up. I just got caught up on the subway, I’m sorry I worried you.”

The rough bark of laughter that escapes Clint at that hurts his throat, and he’s coughing for a good minute before he realizes the admission Bucky slipped in. He rasps out, “You love me?”

Bucky’s blushing in front of him, quickly sets down the bag with the coffee in it, and gently cups Clint’s jaw again, “I do. I didn’t exactly mean to say it like this, but I really fucking do. Is that okay?”

Clint nods dumbly, feels his eyes threatening to spill over again. He wipes them on a sleeve and manages to get control of himself long enough to reply, “Yes, please. I... I love you too Buck.”

The absolute joy that dawns across Bucky’s face is enough to make Clint’s chest feel all full of things again, and the warmth of Bucky’s hands chase away the hollow thing that had nearly taken over him. Then they’re kissing, and it’s a little frantic on Clint’s part, chasing Bucky’s soft sighs and whimpers, drowning himself in the feeling of being with someone that loves him. At some point Clint’s foot knocks over the new tin of coffee, and he ignores it in favor of picking Bucky up by his thighs. Bucky laughs a little wildly, caught up in Clint’s fervor, and lets himself be carried back to the bedroom. Coffee could, apparently, wait.


End file.
